Anchored
by Aureus
Summary: Short one shot. 1x2, yaoi, nightmares. Mild language.


12-21-2005

Title: Anchored  
Author: Aureus  
Pairings: 1x2  
Rating: PG-13 for language  
Warnings: yaoi and nightmares  
Feedback: Please, especially favorite/unfavorite parts  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or its characters

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Infinite space lay before and behind him. The tiny pinpricks of starlight peppered the blackness and as he leaned back in his seat, he thought he saw a comet blaze past in the distance. As Earth began to grow smaller and smaller behind him, he closed his eyes and thought about the mission upon which he was embarking.

Suddenly, alarms blaring, and red lights flashing, Heero was wrenched from his reverie as his Gundam began taking fire. Enemies? Enemies were already firing? Why hadn't they appeared on his radar? Missiles slammed into the heavily-armored suit, shaking Heero violently against his restraints. Why hadn't the tracking system caught them minutes ago? How were they able to get so close?

"Dammit!" Heero screamed, scrambling for his controls, "Are these new models!"

He took another blow and felt his suit lurch forward.

"Behind already? Why hadn't I thought of an ambush?" his thoughts roared as he attempted to activate the shoulder vulcans.

Too late, the Taurus swarm had already dealt critical damage to both of his arms and was tightening its perimeter.

"Dammit! There's no time to counterattack, this is an extermination assault! How could I be so stupid?" Heero mentally berated himself as he reached for the red suicide button. "I'm glad to self-destruct! There is no place in battle for the thoughtless soldier!"

He slammed his fist hard into the button, felt the familiar rumbling of imminent explosions, cursed himself one last time, and prepared to be ripped into the infinite oblivion. Roaring filled his ears as time seemed to slow down, and he could see the rippling waves of flame begin to spread across the edges of his vision. As the suit around him began to break away, he caught one last fleeting image of the white-speckled blackness before the starlight began to fade, and he was left in darkness.

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>

Heero's sapphire eyes blinked open as two points in the otherwise black room. His breathing was fast, his pulse was racing. He sat upright in bed, perspiration gathering on his knotted brow. The dream had never advanced this far before, he had always woken up before hitting the button.

It was years after the war was over, but repressed thoughts of battles and near-death situations were taking their toll on Heero. His battle-focused mind was so accustomed to the expectations of enemies, fights, and basic survival instincts that his subconscious had nothing else to feed him during the long nights.

He was as out of place attempting to fit into a post-OZ world as a toddler would be at a university. In many ways, Heero was the equivalent of a child, having barely enough non-combat experiences to keep him grounded in the reality of ordinary life. His stubborn nature and self-sufficient attitude kept his anxiety in check during the day, but at night he was free to replay terrifying scenarios over and over again. He was sure continued exposure to this kind of mental stress would do long-term damage if it persisted for much longer.

He sat lost in thought when something beside him moved.

Heero's eyes darted to the right and he instantly stopped mid-breath, absolutely silent.

More movement. Pulling on the covers. A burst of chestnut hair became visible as Duo rolled onto his side.

Heero let out his breath slowly and allowed his hyper-sensitive heartbeat to return to normal. It was only Duo.

Duo had become the singular source of Heero's ability to live after the war up to this point in time. Considering battle to be the critical purpose of his life, Heero had mainly thought of committing suicide when the missions had run out and the battles had died away. The fun-loving American pilot simply wouldn't have it.

It had taken weeks to convince Heero he could adjust to a new method and approach to living and it would take many more weeks for the former Wing pilot to experience any progress in achieving a sense of inner peace, but Duo had stuck with him so far. He had watched as Heero's mind turned over and over, never deciding on any definite conclusions. He had been there when Heero was struck paralyzed with the sheer gravity of his helplessness. He had been there every night to calm him after being shaken awake by the omnipresent nightmares.

Duo had always been there for him.

As the dark-blue eyes fell on the soft, pale skin of the American pilot's neck and followed the stream of rich, brown hair, Heero felt a small pang tugging at him from the center of his chest. This recent feeling had, at first, made him uneasy and he felt it was some after-effect of the stress. It had only been a week ago when he realized the feeling only came when Duo was near, as if Duo was a magnet and was pulling some hidden part of Heero closer and closer. He felt a gentle, easy kind of warmth drawn out from his center, a heat that made the night much less ominous and much less lonely, a heat that made him feel as if he would somehow be able to make it until morning.

His breathing slowed to a more calming pace as he lowered himself back down horizontally. He reached out a hand and tenderly dipped his fingers into the pool of chocolate hair, his fingertip barely grazing Duo's shoulder.

Lids began to close over the shining midnight-blue eyes.

Duo was there.


End file.
